Two Is For Us
by MirandNack
Summary: Voldemort has conquered the wizarding world and is battling to overpower the muggle world as well. While fighting for the Order, Luna and a couple of other Order members get captured and imprisoned by Death Eaters. Luna and her comrades are forced to face their own trials and tribulations. Some must face their past, some must face themselves. All will suffer.(Longer summery inside)
1. Chapter 1

Summary: Lord Voldemort has conquered the wizarding world and is swiftly battling to overpower the muggle world as well. While fighting for the Order, Luna and a couple of other Order members get captured and imprisoned by Death Eaters. As Harry and his team fight to face Voldemort, Luna and her comrades are forced to face their own trials and tribulations. Some must face their past, some must face themselves. All must suffer through this time of war.

Rated M: Language, violence, implied or brief sexual content.

**A/N**:This first chapter is light and short. Maybe you'll laugh. Maybe you'll roll your eyes, but it gets much darker. There will be torture and angst, gore and loss. Hope you enjoy.

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"One is for me, two is for us. No wand could form our bond. One is for me, three is for us. Our kind is above any potion of love. One is for me, four is for us. I'd give a sickle for your tickle of a laugh. One is for me-"

"For fuck's sake, Looney, I swear if you sing one more verse of that shat-barmy song of yours I'll personally make sure you never open your mouth again."

Luna Lovegood stopped her soft melody at Draco Malfoy's threat, and settled to try and count the hairs on her head once more. She had made it to 234 yesterday.

"Dammit! Now it's too quiet! Do you know anything about stocks or Quidditch? Maybe we could, you know, actually have an intelligent conversation?" Draco snapped.

Luna let her golden locks – well, they really were closer to a dingy gray, now. Like muddy rain puddles – fall from her nimble fingers. She hummed quietly to herself then said, "I like Quidditch. Well I like to watch it, at least. But only if my friends are playing. I don't know much about stocks though. Father says –"

Draco groaned and interrupted by saying, "I don't give a rat's ass about your father."

Luna nodded softly to herself and said gently, "No, I suppose you wouldn't."

After a couple more minutes of the tense silence, Draco stood up and stretched, flinching as he leaned forward.

"Would you like to play another round of checkers with me?" Luna inquired, starting to draw a square in the dust.

Draco spun to face her shouted, "What the hell is wrong with you? Do you know where we are?"

If Luna was shocked at his sudden outburst, she didn't show it. Instead she gave a small smile and stood so Draco was no longer towering over her. "Of course I do, Draco."

"Really? 'Cause it sure doesn't seem like it. Tell me where we are, Lovegood. Come on, say it."

Luna scratched at an itch along her hairline that had been bothering her for a few days. Probably another bug bite. After all, they were in a dirt pit. "We're imprisoned by Death Eaters, in some forest."

Draco nodded curtly and said sharply, "Are you not bothered by that?"

Luna considered then answered honestly, "Well, I suppose it is a bit unsettling. But Harry and Hermione and Ron will find us."

"Oh, will they now? How nice to know!" Draco bit sarcastically, returning to his corner of the pit, which was only about four feet away from Luna. Well, four feet away from anything… it was a small prison.

Luna remained standing and studied Draco. It really was nice to have company, even if it was snarky, rude, vulgar company.

"Draco, could you please help me?"

"What could you possibly need help with? Is the pitcher on too high a shelf? Will the pickle lid not open?" Draco growled.

Luna shrugged at his bad attitude and muttered, "You have less chance of getting kicked if you help me, but I guess some people are odd that way. And I don't like pickles." She then proceeded bend down and place her hands in front her feet before she started walking her feet up the steep wall of dirt.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM?!" Draco roared as he was showered with beetles and dirt clogs.

"You're a fucking lunatic that shouldn't be allowed to –" he stopped abruptly to cough deep, heaving hacks.

Luna immediately dropped her feet and rushed the two steps to Draco's side. "Oh Pygmy! I do apologize, Draco. I only meant to help my blood flow!"

"Just-" _cough cough cough_, "-Stay away from me!"

"I really am so sorry, if you'd just let me –"

"Just _go_!" Draco shouted, shoving the distressed girl into her corner.

That was how the days had been passing since they were captured. Arguments and verbal hits from Draco and songs and anecdotes from Luna. At first Draco had dutifully kept a tally of the days that passed, but Luna when had been studying the shallow lines in the dirt-face, she had sneezed away the marks on accident. Draco had been too irritated to correct it.

They didn't know how long they'd been down there. Draco swore it had been eleven days, but Luna was positive it had been eighteen. In the end, the number didn't matter. No number could change the fact that they had been trapped in the hole for far too long, both praying for rescue but not wanting to hope.

"This is what I get for joining the damn Order. Imprisoned in a freezing pit with a crazed gal," Draco muttered to himself.

Luna, feeling a prick of indignation at his words, chided quietly, "Harry told you right off that there was no guarantee of life or safety, Draco."

"I _know_! Just shut up!"

Luna sighed.

The lack of food was miserable.

The cold nights were uncomfortable.

The fear was horrid.

But the loneliness… that was unbearable.

Luna fought back a tear that threatened to slip down the curve of her cheek. The loneliness was familiar, perhaps that's why it was so despondent. All Luna had known was loneliness. With just her father as company, school was no condolence to the void she always felt. Nobody understood her, or even took the time to know her. Without company from her peers, she had been left with a painful, empty, jagged tear in her chest. Then Harry had come, and with him his comrades, and she had filled that horrible tear, but now it was back and it left her just as broken as ever. Loneliness was her cruel friend, the only thing that never left.

The tear fell, catching on her chin. She dabbed her pinky to the salty misery and examined it in the moonlight. "You have no right to have a pity party, Looney. Your friends are out there fighting to save the world, and you're supposed to be helping them. Your problems are miniscule, so come along. No more of this foolish crying."

Draco glared at her under his scowl, but he couldn't hear what she was saying. Crazy bitch. Talking to herself.

Then to Draco's dismay, she popped pinky finger into her mouth and settled down to sleep.

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**A/N**: Feedback is very welcomed! Rough seas ahead. Hold on!


	2. Chapter 2

_"How did the perimeter look?" Harry Potter asked, leaning over a grand table as he studied countless maps and books. It was questionable that he could really see anything, however. Like every other member of the Order, he was in desperate need of a haircut; his black locks were constantly falling past his eyes and tickling his nose, but it wasn't yet long enough to tie back like Ron Weasley and Neville Longbottom had taken to doing. The only individual that insisted on cutting his hair was Draco, whose blond head looked like mangled hedgehog._

_Luna looked up the tent walls, admiring the way the thick canvas of the tent seemed to absorb and emanate the orange glow of the lanterns, giving the maze of tent rooms a warm, cozy feeling. She was thinking about how Harry's hair needed a haircut because Harry was too hairy. Was that funny or was humor simply so rare that it only seemed funny? _

_"It went well. I saw a vampire." Did vampires cut their hair? It seemed like a frivolous thing for a vamp to partake in, but in books, they were generally pictured with shorter hair. Hmm._

_Harry looked up sharply. It was a known fact that although the rare creatures didn't take sides, they favored Voldemort._ _"What? Where? Did you bring it back? Did you... dispose of it?"_

_"Hm?" Luna stopped picturing enigmatic, dangerous vampires in hair parlors and answered Harry. "Oh, no. Hermione said the vampires migrated to Russia. She said I saw an owl or something, and she's probably right. She's a very smart girl, you know."_

_Harry straightened up and looked Luna in the eye. "Yes, she is. But so are you, Luna. Next time you think you see something, check it out- no matter what your second says. I'll tell Draco to keep an eye out for vamps." Luna looked at her dusty shoes with her right big toe poking out of the frayed hole and smiled. Every one in the Order either avoided her or treated her like the group child, but Harry was different. He trusted her. He valued her._

_ "Thanks, Harry."_

Luna felt her face warm. Then her neck. But it was an odd sensation. Yes, her head was warm, but it was a tickling, wet type of warm. And what was that smell?

"Fuck off! Again? Don't you coarse cods have muggles to kill or something?" Draco was shouting. Suddenly, reality crashed onto Luna and she sprang to her feet, wiping the urine off her face as she stood. Crude laughs assaulted her from above as two Death Eaters, whom Luna recognized as Warrington and Bole by the former's bulbous shape and the latter's three missing fingers on his left hand, finished their business.

"Good morning!" she called up to them only to realize that it wasn't morning yet. She had fallen asleep just as the sun was setting and now it was completely dark. Only about two or three hours had passed, Luna figured.

"Really? Are you serious right now?" Draco growled at her.

Luna wasn't able to answer, for a flash of orange light shot down and wrapped itself around her. A violent jolt shocked her as energy from the curse coursed through her trembling body. As suddenly as the terrifying pain attacked her, it left, leaving her crumpled against the dirt wall.

"Don't ever open your mouth again, you filthy miscreant!" Warrington yelled down the horrid hole.

"Get away from us! What's your problem?" Draco shouted up at them.

"Fuck you," Warrington snapped back. "Stand up, we're leaving."

Luna dug her bony fingers into clay-like dirt and heaved herself to her feet, shaking as she did so. "Where are we going?" she asked mildly, choosing to remain against the wall until she was sure that she could stand again.

"Get out," Bole ordered.

"Fuck off," Draco bit out, spitting venomously.

Bole's face twisted in anger and he growled to his comrade, "Why do they always insist on talking? Get out of the fucking hole, maggots!"

Luna looked up at the pair and said earnestly, "We've already tried, it's too steep."

With a string of curse words, Bole levitated Luna and Draco out of their makeshift prison. He tossed them aside like the trash he believed they were, smirking in satisfaction as Draco curled into himself when he landed, wincing in pain.

"Oi, bring the girl over here, and we'll bind them."

After Draco and Luna were thoroughly bound with several spells, Warrington bound them to himself in a way that he could move freely.

"You- you dense dick dandler!" Draco gasped, "When I get my hands on a bloody wand..."

Luna looked down in the hole where they had spent the past two or three weeks. The dirt was trodden solid by their bare feet, and there were holes in the dirt wall where they had tried to bury their feces, but after a week neither needed any more holes. Their stomachs were too empty and dehydrated. Out here where the air was fresh with the scents of pine trees and rain, Luna realized just how stale and rank their hole had been.

"I swear to Merlin that I will personally kill you both, just wait! I'll kill you with your own wands!" Draco was threatening through clenched teeth.

"Walk, filth fuckers." A wand jabbed Luna until she took a tentative step forward, forcing Draco to step with her. Luna was more or less surprised to find that she was walking as if her legs were made of china. Besides her, Draco was moving along fine, save for his pale, sweating face.

"Will be getting food?" Luna asked. They had been fed four or five times during their capture. Whether it was stale bread that had been pissed on, fruit that had been trampled until it was muddy slosh that was scooped down onto Draco and Luna's waiting heads, or stale biscuits, they had been fed to live. For whatever reason, Lord Voldemort wanted them alive. The food had always been served with insults of hate and derogatory slanders, and Draco always refused to eat the food. Luna faithfully saved a portion for him, however, and he eventually ate it, cursing himself, the food, and the gods.

Luna received a slap to the face as an answer.

"You'll get food when we give you food."

She wished she could hold her face in her hand, hold in the heat and the pain, but her hands were suck at her sides. She couldn't even comfort herself anymore.

Draco let out an uncharacteristic moan.

"Are you alright, Draco?" Luna asked, concerned. Draco was without a doubt the toughest member of the Order of the Pheonix. Where Harry was skilled, Draco was experienced. Where Hermione was brilliant, Draco was trained. His two years as a Death Eater had shaped him from a weak, scared teen to a determined, pain tolerant man.

"Shit... My stomach..."

"You must be hungry," Luna offered.

"No shit," Draco countered.

"Shut your death-damned mouth," Bole demanded.

They walked for an unbearably extended time, twigs and stones cutting at their already blood-stained feet. Luna's hair had fallen into her face, but she couldn't brush it aside, for her arms were pinned to her sides by magic, her bare flesh slick with sweat from being pressed so firmly against Draco's.

There was an intense, burning itch right above her pant line, but she couldn't focus on it for the hunger was far more uncomfortable. Every step brought a shooting pain to her stomach that spread throughout her ribs and caused it to hurt with every breath.

The human body was weird, Luna decided. If one inhaled for an extended amount of time, would one's lungs expand until they burst or until one's ribs cracked? Or would one's body refuse to let one stretch and torment one's body in such a way? Brains were wired to prevent pain and injury- reflexes to pull one's hand away from a burning fire, coughing and sneezing to remove debris, blood clots to form so one didn't bleed to death. Foolish brain, sometimes pain is the only way.

"Luna, you're sweating worse than Weasley in the summer," Draco growled through his teeth, the dripping sweat between their arms agitating him unbearably. Draco did not like human contact.

"Draco," Luna gently abolished, "You shouldn't talk about him like that."

"It's not like he can fucking hear, Looney!"

"Because he's dead."

There was a pause, then Draco said more quietly, "Right."

Bole chuckled from behind them. To them, Ron was an object, a pawn in chess, when he was gone they were that much closer to their goal.

Luna wondered briefly why the hooded figures hadn't shut her and Draco up yet, but she figured that they were probably hoping to gleam some insight on Harry Potter's whereabouts- for that was the question that haunted every wizard and witch's mind: Where is Harry Potter?

When muggleborns were slit from neck to torso in order to free their body of the filthy blood, their final, fleeting thought was,_ Where is Harry Potter?_

When half-bloods were reduced to slavery, confined to the soiled sheets of intercourse or kneeling on the floor, knees rubbed so raw they were no longer knees but bone and blood, they clung to hope of the boy who live. They were bitterly disappointed when every night they performed their lust-driven duty or cowered in stone cold corners, and they were forced to ask, _Where is Harry Potter?_

When purebloods donned their vibrant, shimmering robes, grimacing as they fought the internal battle to continue their false living as proud purebloods, or to give into their conscious and fight back. But as they slipped into their jeweled shoes and reached for their heavy handbags, they begged the heavens for someone else to rebel and asked, _Where is Harry Potter?_

Even the evil wizards and witches, Death Eaters, torturers, Voldemort himself asked, _Where is Harry Potter?_

"Oi! _Shooooot_!" A cry rang out, startling the birds that were hidden above to frantically flee to higher safety. Bole had his wand at the ready before the crier finished the prolonged, dismayed "shoot".

"Come forward, wand between your teeth. Now!" The Death Eater barked, and some ferns dropped their cradled dew drops as the person stumbled through them, wand in teeth, eyes wide and hands stretched out as if offering a silver tray of tea rather than submitting to dark power.

"That's Neville Longbottom!" Luna exclaimed, her voice raising for the first time in months.

"Check him," Warrington commanded.

"You moron," Draco hissed, "You just gave him away! He might have had a chance..." He seemed to deflate at the aspect of one more prisoner, one more point for the wrong team.

"They were going to check him anyway," Luna said distantly, not arguing, simply explaining.

Bole seized a handful of Neville's dingy gray shirt and wrenched it over his head, jerking his wand out of his lips as he did so. Neville's eyes followed his wand as the color drained from his face, leaving him as pale as his chest and stomach, which bared half the amount of scars as every other Order member, and much, much less than Draco or Harry and his trio. Well, he was a duo, now, Luna supposed. Unless Draco replaced Ron, but that seemed cruel.

"There, on the back of his hip," Warrington said, nodding his head towards Neville. And indeed, just as Luna and Draco had expected, the swooping, orange tattoo of a phoenix was just above Neville's pant line.

"I wonder why he's not running," Luna pondered out loud.

"Because he's not an idiot," Draco snapped back.

"Neville Longbottom. Active member of the Order of the Phoenix," Bole mused, "You can deny your position and join us as a slave where you'll be guaranteed life for a time, or you can be foolish and share these two's fate."

"I- I won't join you, y-you sick e-excuse for-" Neville's insult, whatever it might have been, was cut off by the Death Eater grabbing him harshly around the throat and throwing him to Luna and Draco, where he was instantly bound with them.

Draco let out a slight moan and hung his head.

"Don't worry Draco, not all hope is lost. There's still Harry, Hermione, Percy, George, Ginny-"

"You're saying too much," Draco protested weakly. Then he said under his breath, "Merlin, my stomach..."

"Move. The All Powerful One will not wait for dregs like you."

"Fuck!" Draco cried out as he took a step.

"Sir, something is wrong with Draco. Could you perhaps levitate him?" Luna inquired, feeling Draco's sweaty arm turn clammy.

Bole clenched a fistful of Luna's matted hair and pull her head back until she couldn't swallow or look anywhere but the underside of the Death Eater's chin.

"Keep your worthless mouth shut," he barked, pushing her head forward so quickly she saw stars.

"You fucking weak arse cowards! You can't even trust yourselves to fucking let two starved and one dim-witted person walk without your bloody spell. I bet I could fucking break this spell without my fucking wand! If I did, you'd just kill us because you're too bloody retarded to track us."

The bundle of Order members fell to the ground as Draco collapsed and writhed, screaming and shouting as the Cruciatus Curse took over his quaking body, Luna and Neville forced to jerk around with him until the curse ended.

As Draco lay panting, too weak to stand up, Bole kicked at his chin, demanding in a mocking tone, "Get up. Come on, was that too much for the little Malfoy to handle?"

Luna and Neville stood, trying to support Draco's weight. It was difficult work, however, because he was the tallest in the group and on one end, instead of in the middle where the weight would be easily distributed.

"Shit! You both will be dead by the end of the month," Draco shouted at their captors.

"You never used to yell, Draco," Luna mused. "You used to be silent, and if you had a problem you'd sarcastically, but calmly confront it. Now you're always yelling."

"Walk." A wand jabbed Luna until she took a tentative step forward, forcing Draco and Neville to step with her.

"Yeah, well, everybody has their breaking point, and I'm fighting not to reach mine."

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**A/N:** Thank you for the reviews, they're what motivated me to post this. I won't be able to update this very frequently, but I will try for at least one chapter a month. While you're waiting for the next installment, check out my other story, _What is Love?_ And finally, I have a question for you, dear reader: Would you like to read Draco and Neville's point of view occasionally, or would you rather it be strictly Luna as these first two chapters were? Let me know.

Any and all feedback is welcomed.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **Torrey Town is a fictional place. (Unless you go to New York or Nevada, but I can assure you that our heroine and heroes are not in the USA.)

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After several hours of walking, the trees began to thin out, and the bedraggled group emerged to find themselves in a small wizarding town.

"Is this... No, it can't be. This is Torrey Town?" Neville gasped.

Luna looked around. They appeared to be approaching a sort of town square with boarded up shops lining one side of the street and brick houses lining the other. Was this Torrey? Torrey was a bustling town, a favorite weekend getaway with thriving shops swarmed with bright robes, and cheery neighbors lounging on their porches. The infamous town square was a wide, stone clearing that was known for its festive dances every Friday night.

This town, however, was dead.

No robes billowed behind smiling wizards and witches, for no wizard or witch walked the streets. The brick houses were a dull brown, not the vibrant red that Luna remembered, and the middle of the square held no flower carts or dancing teenagers. Instead, a looming statue of Voldemort stood in the square, seeming to dominate the whole town. The marble figure pointed his wand at anybody who dared to pass by, his cold stone eyes emanating hate and power.

Yes, this was Torrey by name, but not at all by reputation.

"Wonderful, isn't it?" Bole scoffed.

"Well, it's very depressing," Luna stated.

Draco raised his head and looked around. "Shit," he murmured, "So much has changed."

"Damn right it's changed! And for the better. Soon, all of the United Kingdom will be controlled by the All Mighty One. Eventually, the whole world will be filth free," Warrington gloated.

"Oi, stop where you are!" a short Death Eater interrupted, stepping out from behind the effigy and pointing her wand at the group.

"Put it down, Brown, you'll hex yourself," Bole snorted.

"Brown?" Neville asked no one in particular, "Lavender Brown?"

"I will not!" Lavender hissed, stamping her foot like a spoilt child.

Warrington snorted and started to pull his prisoners past the young Death Eater.

"You know you're supposed to kiss the feet of all His monuments!" Lavender shrieked, waving her wand.

"Girl, we're on a mission from the Dark Lord himself, do you want to be the one responsible for us being late?" Bole growled.

"Lavender," Neville said the name in confusion, obviously in shock at seeing his old classmate in the mask of a Death Eater, "I–We were told you died!"

Lavender turned her attention to her old housemate and propped a fist on her hip. "No, I made the smart choice, unlike you, Neville. You could have joined us, you too, Draco. Now look at you," she sneered at them, "Weak, foolish, half-starved."

Before any of the Order members could reply, Warrington pulled them forward, muttering, "We'll kiss his feet when we see him, child, we don't have time to waste on a statue."

"Fine. It serves me better if he kills you anyway," Lavender snapped, marching off to the other side of the marble mass.

"That's too bad that Lavender is a Death Eater," Luna said, looking up at the looming, dark figure and wondering why Volemort was wasting Death Eaters as statue guards when they could be pillaging and killing. "She was never a very nice person, but she's not bad."

"She's bad now," Neville interjected.

"Nobody is bad, Neville," Luna chided.

"Everybody is bad," he mumbled to himself, his voice showing a glimpse of hidden misery.

"That's –"

Luna's reply was interrupted by a prolonged moan from Draco. He abruptly stopped, causing Neville and Luna to fumble to a stop as well.

"Move!" Warrington shouted, slashing his wand through the air. The three bodies were whipped by a stinging strip of magic.

"I –" Draco started, but then he was hunched over, vomiting.

Luna started to kneel so that Draco could kneel as well and be more comfortable, but Draco choked out, "No, I won't be able to stand again," before he continued to heave heavily, only a thin trail of yellow bile pooling to the ground.

"Walk, you repulsive thing!" So walk they did.

An hour or two later, they stopped at a little country house that was abandoned in every sense of the word. It was evident that no person had called this home in many, many years, for even foliage and color had left the house isolated.

"It's broken," Luna whispered.

"What's broken?" Neville asked, looking around to see what she was talking about.

"The house... It's broken. Look at it. What's a house if not a home? It has no purpose, it died." Luna felt the sting of threatening tears.

Neville nervously glanced at her from the corner of his eye, unsure why she was so upset about a block of rotting wood. "It's okay, everything has its time," he finally said awkwardly.

"You don't have to comfort me, Neville, but thank you. I suppose you're right, everything has its time, but it's a shame that we weren't here to see it during that time," Luna said, her tears drying rather quickly.

They crossed the patch of dirt that was separating them from the front door in silence, save for Draco's shallow gasping.

"Hey, set up the boundary spells so I can unbind myself from these slouching shits," Warrington grumbled to Bole as they entered the house.

The inside of the abode was in the same shape as the outside. The few rooms that had carpet were covered in patches of mold with critters weaving through the thick strands. The rest of the house had gaping holes in the wooden floors and walls, and was perfumed with the stench of rot and waste.

Once the proper spells were put in place to ensure no one would escape though the front door or first floor windows, Bole and Warrington set about transfiguring fallen paintings of forgotten seas into modest beds for themselves. They scooted the bed so it was in front of the back door and showed the trio the corner where they were to sleep. Warrington settled on his bed, fully dressed in his robes and muddy boots. Luna noticed and said, "You'd be more comfortable without your shoes, don't you think?"

Warrington answered with a hex that left small burns on her wrists. Because the three were still bound together, she couldn't angle her arm and her head in way to blow cool breath on it. She decided to take her mind off the pain by watching glow worms and spiders scuttle across her shoes and up Draco's pant leg.

"They need to be prepared for anything, including moving out at a moment's notice," Neville explained to her, his brow dipping in contemplation.

"Oh," Luna replied.

The sun was rising as the Death Eaters fell into a restless sleep. Luna was thinking about beds, and how comfortable they were. It was an easy trail for her mind to take, seeing as she was sandwiched between two men in desperate need of a hygienic routine, and her back was hunched painfully.

"Malfoy, Lovegood, are you awake?" Neville whispered several minutes later, his voice so softly quiet that it seemed to melt into the pink-orange morning light.

"Yes," Luna answered just as quietly. "Draco?"

"Yeah," he susurrated.

Neville slowly inhaled then breathed out, "We need to stand up."

Nobody moved.

"We've got to –" a snore from one of the Death Eaters interrupted Neville, and he paused for a couple of moments before he continued again, so quietly that Luna found that she had to give her full attention to catch the wisps of words. "–move together."

Draco exhaled his agreement, and Luna nodded hers. She was proud of Neville for taking charge, she knew it was rare, though not unheard of. Nobody had said it, but all the Order members felt he was dead weight. He stuttered so often that it was a shock if he managed a simple incantation, and he was such an anxious man that he couldn't keep still long enough to talk through strategies with Hermione or Harry, let alone act on them. Pretty much he just cooked for them, and even that was questionable. However, there were times like this where something would click in his hazel eyes and he transformed into a levelheaded asset to the Order.

"One... Two... Now," Neville instructed, and the three rocked forward as one, away from the wall, and stood to their feet without so much of a squeak of a sneaker.

"To the door. Right foot first," Neville continued, but Draco shook his head.

"Boundary spell," he whispered, his voice hoarse and gritty compared to Neville's.

From the way Neville's face fell, it was evident he had not thought of this.

"They didn't put any alarms or guards on the back door, we can go through there," Luna suggested, her long but quiet sentence causing the boys to cringe with every unnecessary word.

Draco looked towards the back door, but his eyes couldn't focus on it, and he resigned to bow his head and press his right hand to his abdomen.

"They're in the way," Neville explained, looking at the obstructing wizards. All three winced dramatically when Bole rolled onto his back.

They stood in silence, holding their breath as they waited for his breathing to deepen again. Once it had, Draco tilted his chin up the stairs that sat by the front door and said, "Window?"

Luna yawned and whispered, "You can hardly walk, Draco. I can't let you jump out of a second-floor window... You could hurt yourself."

"Okay," Neville said, taking a breath and cutting off any chance Draco could have had to engage in an argument. "Okay," he repeated, "Sneak past the bed." He paused to allow silence to settle again, then continued, "Out back door, then run."

Luna thought that there were many things wrong with this plan, such as their undetermined destination, the fact that they were still bound by magic, and the likely chance of stumbling over one of the extra four feet, thus waking Bole and Warrington. However, she also knew that they wouldn't have a chance like this once they were delivered to Voldemort.

Draco nodded, "You lead. Luna, follow him exactly."

The exhausted trio shuffled silently sideways, unnecessarily sucking in their breaths as they slid between the wall and the occupied bed. Fate must have either been smiling upon them or out of commission, for they were able to sneak out of the house without raising an alarm.

They sprinted as fast as their weak, shaky legs could carry them until, at last, Draco grunted, "Stop! Dammit, stop! I- I can't..."

Draco's abrupt halt caused Luna and Neville to trip forward a couple of steps until they lost momentum, and then they all fell to the ground, panting.

"Er, what's the matter?" Neville asked, back to his usual uncertain self after the adrenaline wore off.

Luna looked at their surroundings. She didn't know which direction they had fled in, but they were a good distance away from the Death Eaters. Far enough away that a break while Draco vomited, clutched his side, and curled his knees into himself was justifiable.

Draco let out a moan and started panting in quick, shallow breaths. "I don't... know," he choked out, "It's not hunger."

Luna could feel Draco's arm slicken with sweat on one side, and Neville's rise up in goose bumps. She turned her head so her nose was hardly an inch away from Draco's bent neck, and asked, "Then what is it?"

But Draco was unable to speak past the pain, so instead she turned to look at Neville and said, "You were captured on purpose, weren't you?"

Neville looked at his hands and mumbled, "Yeah, it was a rescue mission. We really should keep moving."

"They have no reason to wake up anytime soon," Luna reasoned, "And I don't think Draco is in a condition to be walking around."

Neville nodded, then after some time asked, "What happened to you guys?"

Luna looked up at the sky and inhaled a deep breath of the cold, fresh spring air. The sun had risen out of its early colors and was now shining lowly but brightly. How lucky to not only be able to admire its bright beauty and the blue sky that accompanied it, but to be able to see their lush, green surroundings as well. Luna hummed a few short notes to herself and mulled over Neville's question. It was odd how she and Draco had been caught. They hadn't really been caught.

"There was no hunt, no chase," she said to herself, "So caught wouldn't be the right word… captured, perhaps?"

"What?" Neville asked, understandably not following.

"Draco was on watch. He usually is, you know," Luna started to explain.

"Yeah."

"Ginny was checking supplies. She did that a lot after Ron died, I suppose keeping busy with chores helped occupy her mind. Although, it would be very difficult not to think about your brother so soon after he passed. Poor Weasleys," Luna trailed on, "She was worried that we didn't have enough porcupine quills, so she asked me to go see if I could find any around camp. So I set out and found two fairly quickly, that was nice. Then I ran into Draco – quite literally – who was patrolling the border of our protective wall. After I apologized –"

"Wait, how did you run into Draco?" Neville asked, having a difficult time keeping track of what was important in her tale and what was not.

Luna was startled by the interruption, but she recovered and replied, "Oh, well, I was busy looking at the ground and Draco was busy looking at the sky."

Draco grunted and wheezed, "I was not."

Neville and Luna ignored him, and Neville encouraged her to continue.

"I started talking to him and –"

"Shit! Oh, holy fucking shit!" Draco suddenly gasped and vomited. And vomited, and vomited until his body could find nothing else to throw up.

"Are you all right?" Luna asked, then realized what a silly question it was.

"Actually, I feel a bit better," Draco said cautiously.

Neville suddenly swung his head in Draco's direction and asked urgently, "What do you mean you feel better?"

Draco shot a glare at the other man and snapped, "I mean my stomach isn't turning itself inside out as it transforms into the fiery pits of hell."

His face drained of color, Neville tried to jump to his feet in alarm, but he only managed to drag Luna to her knees and then fall back down. They would need to find a wand and unbond each other soon.

"Where was the pain centralized?" Neville asked.

"Merlin, Longbottom, why does it matter?" Draco asked.

"You're really hot Draco," Luna said calmly, feeling her arm sting with the heat of his.

"That's disgusting, Looney," Draco hissed.

"_Where was the pain, Draco_?"

"No, I mean your arm is really warm, it's making me warm."

"Well, who knows what goes on in that crazed skull of yours," Draco retorted to Luna.

"Malfoy! Where was your stomach hurting?" Neville shouted, shocking the other two.

"I don't know, the lower part, I guess. Towards the right," Draco snapped.

Neville muttered something like, "Yeah, of course. Why the hell not?" Then said clearly, "We need to find some Echinacea, or garlic… or even better yet: a wand."

"My dadaí has a greenhouse with all sorts of plants, including healing ones," Luna shared.

"Really? Nearby?" Neville asked hopefully.

"No, back home," Luna said, "What's wrong with Draco?"

"I think his appendix ruptured," Neville explained sullenly, "And if we don't find something to fight the infection until we have a wand, it's not going to be good."

"Lucky you have us, then."

The three jumped at the new, yet horribly not unfamiliar voice, and Bole and Warrington stepped up to the prisoners.

* * *

With a several waves of their wands and a few drops of potion, Bole and Warrington had healed Draco. They didn't wait for him to catch his breath before beginning to drag the inconsolable trio along, continuing their trek towards the Dark Lord.

Draco was seething. No, that wasn't a strong enough word, but his mind was starting to fuzz over and he didn't have the energy to describe how completely pissed he was. He knew he owed his life to the two. It seemed that fate was still in her office, scowling at the world as usual.

* * *

**A/N: **I'm sorry for the wait, I had a pouch of necessary bits to drop in this chapter, and I wanted to make sure I emptied the pouch and still had a readable chapter. I hope it was worth the wait. Reviews are always welcomed with wide open arms.


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